The Protectors (updated version)
by NinjaWhisper
Summary: The monks gave Buffy and Spike one night of fake memories. That would have been enough to change their lives. But when you add a glowing key in the form of an unborn baby, well . . . things wouldn't just change, they would be turned completely upside-down
1. Chapter 1

The Protectors

By NinjaWhisper (formerly SinisterChic)

Rated — M (for naughtiness)

Summary- The monks gave Buffy and Spike one night of fake memories. That would have been enough to change their lives. But when you add a glowing key in the form of an unborn baby, well . . . things wouldn't just change, they would be turned completely upside-down

Disclaimer- Joss Whedon owns Spike's eyebrow scar, his bleached hair, his crystal blue eyes, his manly arms, his muscular chest, his tight . . . *cough* Too bad isn't it? But a girl can dream, right?

Spoilers- Starts during Out of My Mind. The entire Season 5, although I changed it tremendously to suit my own purpose

AN- This is an old story I wrote years ago and am revisiting it to revise and enhance.

**Prologue**

Later Buffy would contemplate why she had gone to Spike in the first place. She had a totally decent boyfriend who could satisfy her needs anytime she wished. He had a comfy bed with clean sheets, without the atmosphere of cobwebs, dust, and a musty smell. His place was warm and welcoming, not in a dank and dark crypt, lit only by wall candelabras. But he never had stamina like this. Or filled her this completely. His body was hot, not chilled, and he never sent icy shivers down her back with frantic desire. She'd never felt this euphoric with Riley.

Arrrgh. Oh, he could hit her in all the right places. He gave her so much pleasure that it hurt. He was an expert through years of practice. On a scale of one to ten, Riley was one and Spike was off the chart.

They'd done the deed twice now and were on the third round. Buffy met his thrusts eagerly. She bounced up and down over him, her breasts bouncing, sweat making her skin glow. Spike licked his hungry lips. He growled like the animal he was and grabbed her fiercely, tossing her around on her back. She hissed as she felt the hard cold stone floor against her naked backside. Vampire hands grabbed her buttocks and slammed into her core wildly. If any sanity remained it left her. Going, going . . . gone.

She needed more. She was dying, but oh it was so sweet. Her walls began to quake. Her head fell back as the explosion washed over her. He came right after her, panting with unneeded breath that made him look all too human. They trembled together. Buffy wouldn't meet his eyes and he lifted his left hand to cup her cheek. It was too intimate, too gentle. She didn't want this, she wanted the hard, rough, violence. Logic returned and she pulled back.

"Buffy?"

No talking. They hadn't spoken during the entire session . . . er, sessions, and if it was time for words she would bail. She met his eyes but in a glare of disgust.

It took a while for her legs to work but she lifted shakily. She stood to search for her clothes. She took note of her tossed aside black skirt and lavender top, each on opposite sides of the room. She groaned, looking everywhere for her silk panties. Spike lifted up the small piece of clothing, playing with it in his hand.

"Looking for these, luv?" he asked, huskily, lifting his scarred eyebrow.

She snatched them in silence. She dressed rapidly, almost tripping on the panties as she slid her foot in the second hole. He snickered and she didn't give him the pleasure of letting him see her blush. Fully covered, Buffy ran away in shame.

**Chapter 1 **

**2 Months Ago**

The monks did not take into account that supposedly Buffy hated Spike. All they knew was that the slayer and vampire were strong, and therefore the best candidates to protect the Key. The beast was close and they had very little time. The Key had to be saved, no matter what the cost.

Two of these monks, dressed in long robes, raced around the corner of a corridor. They both held religious items, such as books, candles, and incense. The slower one stumbled and fell. Some incense slipped from his clutch. His companion slowed, helping him up. Then they continued their flight down the candlelit Czech monastery.

The men burst through a set of large wooden doors. They turned and quickly slammed them shut, before bolting them by sliding a large beam across.

"It's coming. It's going to kill us!" one of the monks, the newest addition to the fold, shouted in a panic.

"Our lives aren't important. We have to protect the Key," the second monk reasoned.

This statement seemed to remind the frightened newbie why he was there in the first place. He nodded.

They rushed to the center of the room. Another man, with authority, joined them. All three knelt on the cold stone floor. A ring of lit candles surrounded the group.

"Help me perform the ritual," commanded the senior monk.

They extended their arms and began to chant, lifting their heads as if to a higher power for aid. A crash could be heard over the ancient words. The massive doors jiggled on their hinges. The younger monks glanced back uncertainly.

"Concentrate. Concentrate," said the elder.

A gust of wind swirled through the chamber as the ritual reached its peak. The crossbeam over the door splintered. A flash of bold light formed in the circle. It faded just before the door gave away.

**Present**

The knocking noise grew louder as Buffy walked toward the sound. She rounded a corner to come face-to-face with Riley. He kept punching the rock wall, oblivious to her presence.

"Riley?"

He looked pale, tired, and sweaty. His wet bangs were mussed over his forehead and he looked near to keeling over. Blood coated his knuckles.

"You know, this doesn't even hurt," he remarked.

She gaped. "Your hand is bleeding."

"Don't feel a thing."

Buffy grabbed his arm to stop him. "This stops now. I'm taking you to that doctor," she demanded.

"The one from the government, you mean? Like the ones who did this to me in the first place?"

"He's the only one who understands what's wrong with you, who can help." Why was he fighting this? Did he want to die? Couldn't he see how his actions affected her, put her through?

Riley looked at her with wide eyes. "What's wrong with me? Buffy, I've never felt this powerful. Most people would kill to feel this way."

"It's killing you. Your body isn't built for this kind of strength."

As the sentence died his legs gave out. She caught him before he fell. "Riley!"

* * *

"Buffy. I swear I was just thinking of you. I wanted to tell you the great news. My head's all clear now. No more bug-zapper in my noggin," Spike said with pride. He jumped down from the operating table and donned his leather duster which had been folded to the side. He met her gaze with a smirk.

"That means I get to kill you," she replied, preparing to fight.

He smirked even larger. "That means you get to try."

The slayer punched Spike in the face. She repeated the action a few more times until blood formed. He stumbled back into the operating table and touched the gash near his eye. He brought his wet fingers to his mouth and sucked on them. Buffy turned away in revulsion. He used his powerful vampiric muscles to jump up onto the table. He grinned down at the small slayer.

"At long last," Spike said in triumph.

He leapt down on top of her. He pinned her down and lowered his head to her neck. He shifted, his teeth elongating, face going bumpy and ugly. Just before they slid into her creamy throat he hollered in pain. Buffy shoved him away. He landed next to the doctor.

The doctor looked terrified. Spike gave him an accused glare and snarled.

The vampire got up and checked the container that his chip supposedly had been placed into. He lifted out a copper coin between his pointer and thumb.

"A penny!?"

"I-I told you I couldn't do it," the doctor stammered.

Spike growled.

Buffy crawled over to her unconscious boyfriend. His complexion was pasty and lifeless. His breathing was almost nonexistent. "Doctor, we need you now!"

Spike pulled Harmony away with him. She smiled as if this was all a game, clinging to him like the airhead schoolgirl she'd forever be.

"Hold on, Riley. Please," Buffy whispered. Her eyes stung and she prayed she'd get the chance to become a better girlfriend for him.

* * *

Buffy stared off into space. The doctor's words didn't register.

"I'm sorry. It doesn't matter how soon you could have brought him in. If he had any chance at all it would have had to be days ago."

Buffy didn't want to hear it. So she didn't.

* * *

In Spike's dream he relived his night with Buffy. Their coupling had been wild and violent, but it was slow and tender in his mind. He took time to touch her curves and savor her breasts. He pleasured her first, getting her all wet and ready. The slayer soaked in the selfless attention like a sponge willingly. When they coupled it was magical and affectionate.

As he went over the edge he cried out. "Buffy, I love you! God, I love you so much!"

Spike awoke with a start, alone in the darkened tomb. He sat bolt upright. Horror spread across his features.

"No. Please no," he pleaded and held his head.

* * *

Buffy didn't come out of her room for days. She curled up under the thick blankets, held Mr. Gordo the pig, and hardly moved. The people who cared for her were very worried, especially her mother. Joyce carried food up to her; mainly simple things like soup, but Buffy took no more than a few bites. She feared that her daughter was wasting away.

Her friends came to see her. Nobody could get her to say a full sentence. She barely looked at them.

Then, on the sixth night something snapped, instigated by the prolonged spidey slayer sense. She dressed in a sweater and jeans, and then crept down to the front door. She stepped out into the chilly air.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded.

Spike slowly stepped out of the shadows. He tossed his lit cigarette. It landed at the trunk of the tree that stood by the road. Buffy stomped on the butt to put it out. She crossed her arms and scowled.

"Heard what happened to your soldier boy. Condolences." His voice gave away that he really wasn't sorry at all.

She stared at him with hard green eyes. "You never answered my question," she said.

"Oh. Well, your house happens to be between . . . Parts and other parts of this town. I was just passing through," he said nonchalantly.

"Liar. I've felt you for over two hours."

He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. "Guess I'm caught." He obviously didn't take any of this seriously, which gave her the urge to hit him.

"I don't know what you think you're doing, but please leave." She turned away.

A frown marred his face. In all reality he had been gazing up at her unlit window, worried. Rumor had it that she hadn't shown up for patrol in almost a week.

"Buffy, he was just a boy. Did he mean that much to you?"

She spun back around. Fury flared in her eyes. "How dare you! You know nothing about him!" She punched him in the nose. That wasn't enough. She kept punching him. She punched him over and over until he was on the ground. Still she kept it up. She mutilated his face, blacking his eye until he opened it only halfway.

Spike felt her pain. He lay immobile below her, offering himself up as the punching bag. Even if the chip had somehow malfunctioned he would have let her take it all out on him. He loved her, dammit. He loved her against his will. He had tried to stop it, but it consumed him.

That's right, baby. Let it all out.

Finally Buffy collapsed on top of him. She sobbed, her body trembling, and she seemed like a little lost girl then. His arm uncontrollably wrapped around her.

* * *

Yep, Riley's dead. Not that I hate him, but he needed to be out of the picture. I don't think anyone's that upset.


	2. Chapter 2

AN- Somebody asked about the timeline. They were confused about when Buffy and Spike slept together. It never happened. That was the fake memory the monks created. Buffy and Spike remember it happening whenever the monks did their ritual, which was two months ago. That time would have been sometime before season 5, in the summer.

**Chapter 2**

The vampire tossed Buffy into the wooden 'Keep Out' sign. She grunted form the impact. She ducked, avoiding the fist that swung her way. Her foe was huge with wild hair, and resembled a biker, black leather and all.

"I've always wanted to kill a slayer," the vampire said.

Buffy guessed that that must not have been long. He couldn't have been older than a couple years turned by how weak he was.

"I've always wanted piano lessons. We don't always get what we want," Buffy quipped. Actually, most of the time, she silently added to herself. She accompanied her words with a few blows. He retaliated with a large punch that sent her reeling backwards.

"Uh," she moaned, suddenly feeling sick.

The vampire charged, acknowledging and taking advantage of her compromised state. She knew that she had to keep it together. She whipped out a stake from the back pocket of her leather pants. Before the vamp could react she thrust it into his heart. He burst into a cloud of dust.

Buffy doubled over and clutched her stomach. She tucked her stake away. She took in a few breaths, trying to quench the queasy upset feeling.

"Hey!" a male voice boomed.

A middle-aged man emerged. He held a flashlight and wore a dark night watchman uniform. Buffy turned her head away as his beam shone directly in her eyes. Obviously, he was in charge of warding off intruders who sought to have fun in the abandoned factory.

"Miss, if you're looking for one of those rave parties, I'm afraid you're late. Chased a bunch of kids out of here last night," he told her, eyeing her up and down. He frowned in concern at her sickly state.

Buffy straightened. "Oh. Right. Darn. My fellow ravers will be so disappointed."

"If it were my decision I'd let you do whatever you want. It isn't like anyone is using the place. But they just don't pay me enough to argue with the boss."

Buffy held up her hands in surrender. "Already gone." She turned to leave.

"Oh, hey, hold it miss!"

Buffy spun back around. The man held out a yellow glowing ball about the size of a small paperweight.

"Take . . . whatever this is with you."

Buffy took the orb. She gazed at it, perplexed. Its texture was a tad bumpy to the touch.

"Glow balls, huh? I don't get your generation. What is it with that thing?"

She didn't get a chance to answer. That was when she leaned over and heaved up her dinner of Chinese take-out into the grass.

* * *

"I'm worried about you, Buffy," Joyce said.

Buffy was curled up on the couch. A forest-green afghan was wrapped around her, and Buffy clutched it to her chin. She hadn't gotten sick in a very long time. She didn't remember it being this unbearable. It felt like she might turn inside out and possibly outside in afterwards.

"Mom, I just have the flu or something," Buffy said.

Her mother reached out and felt her forehead. "You aren't warm."

"I'll be fine by tomorrow. My slayer antibodies are kickin in as we speak."

A sigh escaped Joyce as she pulled away. "I hope so, honey. You were just up and about, and now . . ."

A pang stabbed at Buffy's chest. Riley's death still felt raw. There must have been something she could have done. If only she had moved faster, gotten him to the doctor sooner. . .

"I'll be fine. All I need is some TLC."

Her mother was a pro at the tender loving care. She fixed the slayer some homemade chicken noodle soup and chamomile tea. Then she ordered her to lie down and rest. It actually was nice for a change. It had been a long while since Buffy had fallen into the cared for daughter role. She was always so active, staying up late into the night, fighting baddies. Sleep was an old friend she hadn't visited enough.

In the morning Buffy felt better. That was until lunch time. She had barely consumed half her burger when her stomach began to churn. She had to push her plate away and rush upstairs to the bathroom. Her stomach emptied into the toilet and Buffy was left heaving. Ick, she thought, this was some nasty virus.

She lay back down in bed behind a collection of pillows. She tossed and turned, uncomfortable. The non-stop glowing ball on her nightstand caught her eye. She sat up. Could that be the cause of her suffering? Her symptoms had begun last night when she entered the factory.

Buffy managed to make her way to the Magic Box. She stepped into the shop to be greeted by a very horrific sight. Giles stood there in a very pointy blue sorcerer hat with stars. She blinked at it. Giles's smile faded. He quickly shrugged out of the costume, embarrassed.

She glanced around. The store was empty.

"When do you open?" she asked.

"Since nine this morning actually." He glanced at his watch. "Still not to worry. No, I've got feelings about this place. Magic's a small niche market but well, think about it. Sunnydale, monsters, supply and demand. They'll be lining up around the block in no time."

Buffy nodded. "Yeah. You'll be making money hand over fist." Her words hit her with puzzlement. She held her hand over her fist. "Which I guess is a good thing,"

Her former watcher eyed her with concern. "You all right? You seem a little distracted."

A sigh escaped her. She fell into a chair near the round table, which was located in the center of the shop.

"I've been a little sick. I have no idea what the deal is," she told him.

"How sick? Have you seen a doctor?"

"No. I think it's just a bug." She paused. "Well, it might not be. I started feeling bad when I found this glowy ball thing."

Just then Willow bounded inside. She grinned enthusiastically and examined the shop.

"Giles, where's your hat and cloak!?" Willow exclaimed. "Oooo, newt eyes! Wow, Buffy, come look at this stuff!" Willow held up a jar filled with weird slimy things. Buffy looked away, feeling even more nauseous.

"Actually, I have a little Scooby-centric deal to deal with first," Buffy said. "I found this glowing ball. I left it in my room because it might be dangerous. I started throwing up right after contact with it. I don't want it to affect any of you."

Willow came over, interested. Giles furrowed his brow, deep in thought.

"Can you describe it?" Giles pressed.

"Well, it's . . . shiny?"

He frowned. "Is that all?"

"Pretty much." She made hand movements to indicate how big it was. "Yay large, kinda textured. I found it near an abandoned factory. I vote that I go back out tonight."

"Are you sure? If you feel unwell . . ."

"Nah, I can't just sit at home. If this ball is causing my sickness it must be stopped."

"Don't worry, Buffy, we'll research," Willow said, reassuringly.

Buffy stood up. "Thanks, Will, I appreciate it. I think I'm going to head back and report to Mom. She wasn't too thrilled about me venturing out."

With that Buffy left.

At home, Buffy took another nap. She felt lazy, since she was normally so active during the day. A couple hours later she was awakened by the phone ringing. She groaned and ignored it. There came a soft knock on her door.

"Buffy, Mr. Giles is on the phone. It sounds important," her mother said.

Buffy sat on the side of the bed and spoke into her phone.

"Giles, did you find anything?"

"Sorry, not yet. I do have something useful, though. It was Anya who thought of it actually. It is a spell called tirer la couture."

"Rotate many foodstuffs?" Buffy guessed.

"Pull the curtain back," he corrected.

Well, she never claimed that language was her specialty.

"It will reveal any magical essences at work. Every spell has a trace signature," Giles went on.

"Thank you, Giles."

"I'll have Willow send it over to you."

A short while later Willow arrived with the spell book, along with the ingredients needed tucked away in a cloth bag. Her friend explained the spell, which sounded pretty simple, and wished her luck. Buffy locked her door and set up rather quickly. She lit incense and poured some colored sand around her counterclockwise into a circle. Then she sat cross-legged. She closed her eyes and fell into a meditative trance.

Breathe in, breathe out. In, out. She paid attention to every puff of air. A pull made her open her eyes. The room was grainy and dream-like. She picked herself up and headed out. It felt like she was walking in a thick cloud. She slowly descended the stairs.

Joyce glanced up from her position near the front door. She slipped into her beige coat. "Will you be all right if I go out for a while?"

Dazed, Buffy nodded. She became transfixed by a photo on the wall.

"Are you sure you're feeling better? You seem a little out of it . . . Buffy?"

Buffy looked over. "I'm fine. You go out. Have a good time."

"You're so grown up." Joyce reached out and touched Buffy's cheek. She smiled and then exited outside.

Buffy focused back on the family portrait. It kept flickering. One second it showed Joyce and her, then in a flash, it shifted to the image of Spike, her, and . . . a baby! Buffy gripped the banister. Her legs gave out and she sunk to the carpeted step below. She lowered her gaze to her folded hands, at a loss with how to feel or think, and what to do next.

Time swept by in a blur. She didn't know how long she remained in her stupor. The world was now back to normal. She kept checking the picture. It had stopped switching. Still, she couldn't get over what she had seen. She knew she hadn't imagined it.

The phone rang shrilly. Buffy went to answer it. She was glad that it was Giles. She could hear loud voices over the line.

"Buffy? I'm glad I caught you. I think we might have underestimated what we're dealing with," the shop keeper said.

She held the phone tighter. "Go on."

"The orb is called the Dagon Sphere. Its history goes back centuries."

"What's it do?" she asked.

"It's a protective device, made to ward off primordial evil."

Buffy let out a breath. "So it isn't making me sick?"

"I would think not. But whatever it is supposedly warding off could be."

"Any word on what that might be?"

"Unfortunately no. All I could uncover was that it repelled that which cannot be named. Do be careful. Anything that cannot be named is either greatly worshipped or feared- maybe both. Have you completed your trance?"

Buffy took a quick peek at the photo for the billionth time. Her mother and she were displayed in a loving embrace. The Spike and her one, complete with an offspring, flashed in her mind. They had seemed very happy. How could that be? It was Spike! Anything that involved Spike involved badness.

"That's the thing . . ." She hesitated. Could she really tell Giles that she had seen a family photo with 'Spike' of all people? Frankly she was ashamed and scared.

"Nothing, it didn't work," she quickly lied. She made up some nonsense about checking the oven so that her dinner wouldn't burn and said a brisk goodbye. She smashed the phone back in its cradle.

* * *

The factory wasn't so abandoned as everyone thought. Buffy was surprised to find one fashionably lacking woman there to greet her. Well, by the way she was able to throw her into a cement wall she wasn't any ordinary woman.

Buffy tried to fight back but the bitch grabbed her arms. The permed blonde freak then proceeded to wrench them downward. Buffy let out a cry. She had to do something fast. She slammed back her head in a head-butt.

The woman in a tight red dress seemed shocked. "You hit me! What are you, crazy?"

Buffy continued her assault. She hit and kicked in a frenzy.

"You can't go around hitting and kicking people!" the woman accused.

Buffy ignored her. The woman grabbed hold of her and slammed her into the decrepit wall once more.

"I just noticed something," the woman said. "You have super powers." She picked Buffy up by the throat. "Can you fly?"

Her body was flung across the room. Buffy realized two things. One: she had to get out of there fast. Two: she had to save the really thrashed monk that was the woman's captive. Buffy's eyes shifted to the glass window. The woman, or whatever she was, noticed what she was about to do. Her observance was too late.

Buffy dashed for the monk and dragged him along with her. They crashed through the window and tumbled to the ground. She helped the monk up and they ran.

"Please, stop!" the monk pleaded.

"No, we have to keep going," Buffy reasoned.

The monk's legs gave out at the fence. He slumped against it."My journey is done I think."

"Don't get metaphory on me. We're going." She reached for him again but he pulled away.

He gazed up at her with large eyes. "You must . . . the key. You must protect the key."

"Okay, the key. We'll protect the key. Just far, far away from here."

"Many will die if you don't keep it safe," the monk said, trying to make her understand.

That caught her attention. "How? What is it?"

"A portal. It opens the door."

"The dagon sphere?"

He shook his head. "No. For centuries the abomination found us. We had to hide the key, gave it form, molded it to flesh." He paused. "And sent it to you."

Buffy's eyes widened in shock. Things fell into place. Her hand automatically roamed to her stomach. "You planted that thing 'in' me!"

"We knew the slayer would protect."

"Whose is it? Is it Riley's? Or . . . Spike's?" she demanded.

The man smiled. "The vampire is strong. He will help protect."

"That's not an answer." Her right hand fell away from her middle and both her hands formed into fists.

"We built memories. Two warriors were united to form the vessel."

"Unbuild them! This is my life!" Tears streamed down her face.

The monk fell into a dry coughing fit. She knew that he would soon fade away.

"It's not _my_ baby," she whispered.

"She won't. . . doesn't know that," the monk said.

She? Oh God! Buffy shut her eyes in attempt to ward off the impact of his words. This 'thing' wasn't a person, but a tool, and yet when he used such a human term for it, she almost did want to protect it.

"I didn't ask for this. I don't even know . . . what it is . . . she?"

Pleased, the monk said, "Human. Now human. A baby. And helpless. Please, she's an innocent in this. She needs you."

The monk's eyes closed. He exhaled his last breath. Buffy crumpled to the cold ground and sobbed. This was all too much to take in. She was a vampire slayer, not a mother to some mystical key thingy.

* * *

Hope you like the course this is heading in. Please tell me what you think.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Buffy was pregnant with Spike's spawn. No, that wasn't right. She was magically impregnated with a mystical key that hadn't come into being by a sexual means at all. So, it wasn't Spike's kid technically, or hers for that matter; but the monk said it had been transformed into a human fetus. Did that mean that they used Spike and her DNA to create it?

Her mind swam from the confusion. She couldn't decide if she should hate what was inside her or love it. A baby. If only it were that simple. She had dreamed of being a mother when she was little, yet disregarded it as irrational after being chosen. A real daughter she could love, but a portal . . . Human now, the monk had said. Was it a real baby? Was it hers? Her life was never simple, but this was outrageously over the top.

What would Spike think about all this? She shut her eyes. He was soul-less, a killer only kept in check by a piece of metal machinery. She couldn't trust him. The baby might not have been created in the natural way but she still felt responsible for it. The monk had been correct; it was an innocent after all. She had been a good choice- she'd protect it. And that meant keeping it away from vampires, even chipped ones.

Shutting the blinds that night and slipping into bed under the thick covers, Buffy made a decision. One thing was for sure; she couldn't tell anyone that the child might be part _Spike_. She knew that she couldn't keep her pregnancy a secret forever, but she could bend the truth about it. The baby wouldn't be Spike's, it'd be Riley's offspring.

It was confirmed the next day at a doctor's appointment. Buffy was definitely pregnant, and over two months along. Slayers weren't always regular, and with denial, she hadn't caught her body's signals. Now the next step was to deal with it, and that was the hard part.

Buffy walked down the long pristine hospital corridor. She clutched a bottle of prenatal vitamins. Her brain was still having trouble registering that this was all real. She wasn't paying attention to the busy world around her- nurses, doctors, and patients going this way and that. All of a sudden a gurney came out of nowhere. The patient, a burly middle-aged man, sat up and struggled to escape his restraints. Buffy's eyes widened. She knew the guy. He was the night watchman she'd encountered two nights ago.

"I don't belong here. I have important instructions. Fascists!" the night watchman cried.

The male nurse, young with wavy brown hair, fought to keep the man down. Buffy went over to help. She pushed the patient down with one arm so that the nurse could tighten the straps.

"You know, not to be rampantly sexist in the workplace, but you've got some serious muscles for a girl," the nurse said.

"I uh . . ."

"Radioactive spider bite?"

Buffy forced a smile. "How'd you guess?"

"I'm Ben, a doctor. . . well, almost."

He grinned and his eyes wandered over her, and she could tell that he was interested in her. Too bad she was knocked up.

"Buffy Summers. Pleased to meet you." God, she sounded so cheery and fake.

The night watchman seized Buffy's arm. His eyes were large and full of madness. "They make no difference!" the man declared.

"I've met this guy, he's not crazy," Buffy told Ben.

Obviously Ben didn't believe her. His expression fell and he sounded doubtful. "If you say so."

"They come at you through your family!" the man ranted on.

"My family? What do you mean?" She couldn't help but wonder if there was some kind of credence to his ravings. Slayers were careful and didn't ignore possible clues. They were sorta like buffed up Nancy Drews with stakes instead of notebooks and fingerprint decoders.

Ben turned toward an orderly and spoke with authority. "Get him to Exam One. Now would be nice."

The gurney wheeled away and the man let go of Buffy's arm. The bottle slipped from her fingers. Ben bent down to retrieve it.

"I'm really sorry about that. Here." He glanced at the prescription label before Buffy could stop him. "Oh, you're pregnant?"

She snatched the pills away, humiliated.

"I'm sorry if I sound so surprised," Ben said. "I'm actually pretty embarrassed. I was even going to ask you out for a drink, but seeing as you're taken. . . "

"I'm not 'taken'!" Buffy spat.

"I admire you then. It takes courage to raise a baby on your own."

"Th-Thanks," she stammered. Buffy hurried away. Outside in the parking lot, she caught her breath and lowered her head. Geez, Buffy, that went peachy, all full of the golden peaches, she thought with bitter sarcasm. If she acted that way around a stranger, what would she do when her mother and Giles discovered the news?

* * *  
Buffy had to make decisions, very important decisions. For starters she made up her mind to move back home. She needed her mother. Joyce wouldn't be happy about this, but she'd support her anyway because that was what good mothers did, and Joyce was one of the best. Her friends were nice enough to help transport all of her things from the dorm. They gave her a few looks of worry, but she ignored them. She wasn't ready to tell them. Not that she would ever truly be ready.

That night she went out on patrol through the local cemeteries. She knew that she shouldn't in her condition, but it wasn't like she could blow it off. There was a new big bad, after all.

She roamed through the graves, gripping her new favorite wooden stake, Mr. Pointy-Point. The moon shown in the clear night sky, bright and almost full, illuminating her way. It was pretty slow that night. She allowed herself to get wrapped up in her thoughts, grappling yet again with her situation. She was so lost in them that she didn't notice the vampire that suddenly charged out of the shadows. He knocked into her with great impact, which made her hit the ground hard, and her weapon went flying.

Buffy struggled against the vamp on top of her. His face was wild, fangs snapping at her, trying to reach her neck. The only thing she could process was that she couldn't get the thing off her. Oh God, was this it? I failed, she thought. I'm so sorry, baby. I wasn't a good candidate in the end. The vampire wasn't even that old, and it was pretty much shameful to have been put down like this.

The vampire abruptly exploded. She lay there, gasping for air, and coughed as ash got in her nose. She heard kicks and punches nearby. It took a moment for her to gather herself. When she did she saw that it was Spike. He ripped another nearby vampire's head off. A new cloud of dust exploded in the air.

Spike came over to her and offered a hand. Buffy stared up at him blankly. She got up, pushing his hand away. He huffed at that.

"Better be more careful, slayer. That vamp or his friend woulda had himself a right good day," Spike said.

"I don't need your help!" she exclaimed. He had saved her. Why? They were supposed to be enemies.

Laughter spilled from Spike. "Oh, right. You sayin you would've come out on top in the end?" Buffy gathered her fallen stake from the grass. She remained silent.

"You know, you could be a little more grateful." He pointed at her with severe eyes. "I just saved your ass and you know it!"

She tucked her stake away into her boot. "If that's what your ego wants to think."

He shook his head. "You are something, you know it? You can find someone else to fight your battles."

Her green eyes sparked with electricity. "I don't need someone else to fight my battles!"

She'd be fine. All she needed was to keep herself focused in the future. She had been stupid to let herself get distracted so easily. But what about two months from now? Four? Six? She did have a problem. But Spike was not the solution to it.

Buffy turned around to stalk off. She got a few feet before she stumbled on a large gnarled stick. Strong cold hands caught her before she lost her balance. She didn't fight them, although she knew she should. They remained in place for who knows how long. She could feel his icy, unnecessary, breath on her neck. He was too close. Why was he breathing so hard?

All of a sudden he went rigid. "Were you aware, pet, that you got yourself a bun in the oven?"

The slayer pried herself harshly from his grip. Of course he'd sense it, she thought. Why hadn't she thought of that? She backed away. Instinct had her within its rules and regulations, with what kept slayers alive. She hugged her middle, sheltering it from this monster.

She couldn't read his features and he wouldn't look directly at her. "Tin soldier left a souvenir, huh?"

Buffy put even more protective space between them. "Stay away from me and my daughter, Spike!"

Overwhelmed, shaken, and scared more than she wanted to admit, Buffy fled the scene. She never saw Spike's hostile blue eyes turn dark with heartache, or clench his hands into fists.

_  
AN- You gotta feel sorry for both of them. I know this isn't playing out to be fluffy Spuffy love, but there are enough happy baby fics out there. Do you really want another one? Besides, if you know me, you know I always get to the lovin in the end.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

I'm pregnant. Two simple words and it should have been easy to spit them out. Instead Buffy was finding it as difficult to do as when she sent Angel through the spinning vortex of Acathla.

All day she trailed behind her mother. Joyce gave her curious looks now and then, whcih Buffy could understand. She hadn't spent this much time with her mother since . . . Well, a long time. No wonder her mother found the behavior strange. Buffy had hardly come back home to visit since college admission. She was always at the dorm, with the gang, or going out to hunt demons. Now that life had turned devastatingly distraught, all Buffy wanted to do was climb into Joyce's lap and regress into a dependent child.

"What's that?" Buffy questioned, spotting the papers her mother was scanning with a nod.

"Honey, are you all right?" Joyce asked, unconcerned with the work.

Buffy took a seat next to her at the dining room table. "Sure, Mom. Why?"

Joyce shook her head. "Oh, I don't know. It's just I've seen you more today than in the past two months."

"Is there anything wrong with some mother-daughter bonding action?"

Joyce smiled. She patted her daughter's hand. "No, of course not. Let me look over these papers for the gallery first, okay?"

"Oh. Sure. I'll just . . . go do something else for a few." Buffy stood up.

"I really do want to see you, Buffy. If it wasn't for this paperwork . . ."

Buffy forced a smile. "I know."

She hurried upstairs and to her room. She shut the door and then leaned against it for support. She took a few deep breaths. She was glad her mom had sent her away because it would give her time to contemplate how to break the news. I'm pregnant. Two simple words, but there was no easy way to say them.

Buffy moved to her bed. So tired. She was always so tired now, and she wondered if it was a symptom or just from mental strain. She lifted the pastel bedspread and crawled underneath it. The heavy comforter snuggly wrapped around her small frame; she closed her eyes and let herself disappear in it.

* * *

Someone up there had it in for him. Not that he blamed them. He was William the Bloody after all, scourge of thousands. He deserved this afflicted torture. He knew it, but he still wished there was some way to make the pain go away.

Spike downed the last of his Jack Daniels straight from the bottle. Bugger, there was not enough toxin to put him in a stupor. His mind was too active and refused to numb-out. He stared into the clear, empty glass container.

He remembered how smooth her skin had felt, the swell of her breasts, the hump of her buttocks, the curves of her hips, and the muscles of her inner workings. Sweat covered her, heated and wet, and his fingers traveled over the slick surface. She burned. Her heart had beaten loud and fierce. It pounded in his ears, mingling with her heavy breath. Her eyes lost focus as her head fell back with passion and pleasure. She cried out and her muscles quivered around him, strong and tight, a slayer's perfection. All for him, because of him. The thought of her with another . . . doing 'those' things with another. . . And a baby. Fuck. She'd never be his. Captain Cardboard was a part of her now, always would be, no way around it. It was enough to make him go mad.

Spike tightened his grip on the bottle and it shattered from the pressure. The glass flew into tiny shards. Blood slid down his palm. He snickered humorlessly. He wished there was some way to make the pain go away. To do away with his love, to do away with 'her'.

* * *

Buffy stalked though the cemetery. She wanted to get this over with as soon as possible. She still hadn't told her mother the unexpected news. She couldn't find the opportune moment for it, but really that was only an excuse to put it off. She fought to stay focused, reminding herself about what happened the last time she had patrolled.

She moved through the graves, hugging her arms. She opened up her senses for demon activity, honing in on the eerie environment. It wasn't long before she felt something spooky nearby. She prepared herself for the attack, fists up.

The vampire emerged. He looked like a Kiss reject, makeup and all.

"Are you trying to cover up something? Major acne?" She offered a few high kicks. "You know, they have cream for that. Or, does that not work on dead things?"

The vampire snarled in displeasure. He punched her in the side of the face. She ducked out of the way when he went for another round. She wasn't fast enough to avoid the foot that plunged into her abdomen, though. Her green eyes went wide as she staggered backwards. Oh God!

The vamp chuckled. "I've heard much about you, little sister. All lies. You're not that tough."

Buffy's features hardened. She battled with the nausea building in her stomach and whipped out her stake. Now was the time. She thrust the wood into his heart before he could react, taking advantage of his haughtiness.

"Think again," she commented as he disintegrated in the air.

She let out a breath. She dropped the stake to clutch her middle. It hurt. Tears built up in her eyes. What if . . . ? She had to get help. The hospital wasn't far away. She could make it.

The doctor didn't seem worried after prodding around a little. Why wasn't he worried? This was her baby at risk.

"Calm down, Buffy," Dr. Grant soothed with composure.

"But he kicked me! He came out of nowhere. He wanted . . . uh . . . to rob me, yeah!"

"I'm sure your baby is fine, Ms. Summers. I've examined you fully and the injury seems superficial. But if you are worried I could do a sonogram."

Buffy rested her head back on the examining table. "Is that where there are pictures on the TV?"

The doctor smiled. "Yes. It is a simple procedure. Sound waves are used in order to capture an image of the womb. It would be a sure way of confirming that everything is ship shape."

Buffy nodded. "Please do it."

"All right, Buffy. Now just relax." He set up a few things. "Prepare yourself, this might be cold."

Exposing her belly, the doctor squirted a small amount of gel. He spread it around on the flat surface of her stomach. Buffy watched the screen expectantly. A blurry picture formed. She squinted, trying to make something out. She became disappointed when she couldn't form anything coherent in what she saw.

The doctor must have detected her difficulty. "Do you want me to point out your baby?" he asked. He sounded like he was used to this.

"Please."

He pointed to a tiny dot on the screen. "That's it."

"There?" she questioned with skepticism. "That thingy there?"

"Yes," the doctor replied and laughed. "Don't feel bad. It takes a professional in order to point it out. It is very small at this stage."

Buffy hardly heard. She had become transfixed right after he pointed out her baby. A small smile formed on her lips. There really was a baby in her. The reality of it all hadn't really hit her until now. She was going to be a mother. It didn't matter if it hadn't been created naturally and used to be a greenish portal. The baby was hers now. The monk was right. They had given her a beautiful gift, and she loved it. She loved the tiny creature within her more than anything, even ice skating. She knew she had from the very start, but hadn't let herself realize it until now.

"Everything is fine. The heartbeat is strong. I have no reason to believe there will be any abnormalities," Dr. Grant stated.

Buffy blinked away accumulated wetness. "Thank you."

When she hopped off the table, it occurred to her that these doctor visits were going to cost a fortune. It was a good thing she had health insurance through her mother. Which reminded her that the sooner she told her mother the better. She really didn't want a confrontation as to why she was suddenly using the health coverage.

Buffy left the hospital with a new perspective. She was no longer ashamed with her pregnancy. She kept glancing down at the blurry gray pictures that had been printed out for her. Her thumb slid across a photo's smooth surface. She felt lightheaded with wonder and vowed she would do everything in her power to keep her baby safe. Everything. Even if that meant collaborating forces with an evil bleached blond fiend. She wasn't strong enough to beat this new big bad. Her condition was only going to degrade with time. If she couldn't prevent a mere vampire from kicking her in the stomach there was no way she could pound . . . whatever that permed freak bitch was.

She reached Spike's crypt without a further skirmish, which she was thankful for. She entered civically, without crashing her way in. The place was dark except for the flickering glow of the television. An end-table held an empty bag of pork-rinds and an open can of beer. She'd never understand why the vampire ate for fun. She dismissed the thought of him stealing from gas station convenience stores.

Spike whipped his head around from the trashy couch. "Oi, you," he said in indifference.

"Yeah, me. Can, uh, you shut that off? I want to speak with you," she said, gesturing to the program. It was some old black and white detective movie.

Spike rose. The movement was so fluid and graceful. She couldn't help but compare him to a feline. His physique was so strong, sleek, and lean. A flash of herself own body pressed against such physique came to mind. Not real, not real, she repeated over and over. She blinked, realizing he had muted the television and was now glaring at her.

"What do you want?" he demanded.

She spotted his left hand. It was marred with dried blood. She opened her mouth to ask what happened but then thought better of it. She shifted her gaze to his face.

She sighed. "I need your help."

Spike took out a cigarette. He quickly lit it and blew smoke at her. "So 'now' you need my help? Thought you were good enough on your own, oh mighty slayer."

Buffy coughed and waved the smoke away with her hands. She grabbed the stick out of his hand and smashed it under her shoe. "No smoking!"

He shook his head. "Oh, right. Your _condition_."

She fiddled with her hands. "Look, this isn't easy for me." She paused. "I've always been strong enough on my own. I'm the slayer, ya know? But I can't do this alone. Please, help me. Go with me on patrol until after she's born."

Spike's jaw twitched.

"I'll pay you!" she added. Buffy searched his eyes pleadingly.

He laughed. She just stared.

"Get out," he abruptly said.

She gaped. "What?"

He pointed toward the door. "Leave before I toss you out."

"Spike . . .? " Her eyes began to sting. Oh, geez, she had been crying a lot lately. Hormones?

"Oh balls, woman. Turn off the waterworks. Look, you've got enough help without bringing me into the mix. I've seen the whelp and Red out. They've done just fine."

"Not against this. There is something new in town. Something powerful. I went up against her and almost didn't get away."

He shut his eyes, strained. "Call up the poof. I'm sure he'd be here in a heartbeat."

Buffy blinked, not understanding. "Who?"

"Angel."

There was a moment of silence. "I don't want to bring him into this." She couldn't deal with her ex right now. What would he think? It would be too humiliating to be pregnant with another man's child while around him. The thought of telling her ex about being pregnant was embarrassing and awkward. And wrong. . . mean even. It was like throwing it in Angel's face that she'd moved on and would have a family, something he'd never have with her or anyone else. No, she couldn't bear it.

"You'll figure something out," Spike said coldly. "Best of luck."

Lies. He didn't care at all, Buffy noted, sort of pissed off.

"Just for your information, I'm not at your bloody beck and call. I've got my own place now, don't need to be mixed up with your lot. Got things to do. Evil, vampiric things."

She nodded. "I understand."

Without another word, buffy turned and left. Fine. She'd figure this out on her own. There were other options. Ones that alluded her, but she'd come up with something.

* * *

'God Damn It!' Spike silently swore. He was at the end of his bloody rope. This was too much. He couldn't stand to be around her. It tore him up inside. He could feel it in her, smell it even. Just as he could sense death, he could sense life. Not only that, the fluttering beat of the added tiny heart closed in around him.

Something had to be done. He had to get rid of this agony. There had to be a way. There was no way that he could go seven months with this torture.

He could leave town. He'd pack his bags and storm out of this fucking town. He'd find Dru again and she could cure him of this disease. Together they'd find a way to turn him back into a real vampire again.

Wait. He shouldn't have to leave. He could stay here if he wanted. He wasn't going to let a little girl lead his unlife- enslave him under her power.

Spike stormed over to a metal rectangular trunk. He opened the lid with a creak and searched through its contents. His hand brought up his prize, a double barreled shotgun. He smirked after loading it with two rounds.

Two hours of brain blasts and then the pain would be over. He'd make it all go away, problem solved.

* * *

"Mom, can we talk?" Buffy softly said.

They had just finished dinner. Empty plates sat in front of them, the red hint of lasagna lingering on the white surface.

Joyce smiled. "Sure. Do you want dessert? I made brownies."

Buffy reached over and grabbed her mother's wrist to halt her from rising. "Mom, we really should talk."

Joyce relaxed. Her complete concentration shifted to her daughter. She frowned hard. "Drugs?"

"What!? No!"

Joyce put a hand to her chest. "Thank god. Is Angelus back?"

"No. Mom, relax."

"Okay, I think I better stop guessing. Just tell me."

This was it. The time had come. "Mom, I'm pregnant."

It took a moment for Joyce to grasp the sentence. Buffy waited for the explosion. Instead Joyce replied in a calm manner. "Whose is it?"

Buffy's green eyes widened. "How can you ask that?"

The bomb hit. "Well, I don't know, Buffy. Everytime I think I know what is going on with you I get struck. First it was Angel and then the slayer thing. And now you're pregnant!"

Buffy looked down at her trembling hands. "I'm not a whore."

"I didn't . . ." Joyce sighed. "So it's Riley's?"

Buffy swallowed. "Yeah." It unnerved her how easy of a lie it was.

Joyce nodded sadly. "Didn't you use protection?"

"We got caught up in the moment once." She met her mom's eyes. "Once."

Another lie. Buffy had always been firm about protection. Riley had no problem with it. They got in the habit of always having some on hand.

"I can't believe you would be so irresponsible," Joyce snapped.

Buffy gripped the edge of the table. "I'm sorry."

"Well the damage is done. So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not getting rid of it!" Buffy said with astonishment.

"I didn't mean that. I meant . . . Are you planning on getting a job? Are you staying in college?"

"I . . . I haven't thought that far ahead."

"Well you better start! How far along are you?" Joyce asked.

"A little over two months," Buffy said.

"Seven months may seem like a long time but it's not. It will come sooner than you think."

"I know!"

Joyce stared at her with disappointment for longer than Buffy liked. Buffy shrunk under the gaze. Finally, Joyce stood up. "Excuse me, I'm going to bed."

Buffy sat there numbly. Well, it was over. She had known it would be bad. Somehow it felt worse then she anticipated. Mommy, I'm sorry.

* * *

Spike stalked purposely toward the Summers residence. He stepped through the shadows and into the light from the back porch lamp. She sat hunched on the bottom step. He aimed the gun straight at her head. His finger hovered over the trigger. One shot and this nightmare could end.

You can do it, mate. One quick motion and it'll be done. He cocked the gun.

Buffy raised her head. She looked at him through blurry vision. She seemed so small and weak, at his mercy. "What do you want now?" she asked.

His finger trembled. He took in her devastated face. She was a mess of tears. His rage vanished at the sight of her suffering. He lowered the gun to his side, muscles going limp.

He tilted his head to take her in. "What's wrong?"

"I don't want to talk about it," she said.

"Is there something I can do?"

She simply stared up at him in confusion. He settled next to her on the step and she miraculously let him. He hesitantly reached out and awkwardly patted her on the upper back.

He was a fool to think he could be anything but love's bitch. There was something in him that just broke over the opposite sex. There was no fighting it. Cecily, Dru, Buffy. . . The pain was there and there was no doing away with it. He'd stick by the slayer's side. He'd protect her with his unlife. He loved her with all he had. And against his choice he seemed to love the bit as well. It was a part of his precious Buffy after all.

He retracted his hand. They both stared out into the night in silence.


End file.
